


To Have Loved and To Have Lost

by supernovainparadise



Series: Aleksandr Petrov; the Sole Survivor of Vault 101 [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cussing, Danse Romance, Deacon is badass, Grief/Mourning, Hancock is a good person, If you havent played through the brotherhood route, M/M, Maxson is a dick, Post-Blind Betrayal, Spoilers, Spoilers for that too, The Railroad Ending, The institute is full of assholes honestly, Which should be obvious by now, as always, just a fair warning, revenge is a dish best served cold, the game will be ruined for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovainparadise/pseuds/supernovainparadise
Summary: Alex would be lying if he said he didn't miss his wife. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss his son, or mourn who he should have been. He'd be lying if he said he believed everything the Brotherhood did was right. He'd be lying if he blindly followed orders.





	To Have Loved and To Have Lost

**Author's Note:**

> So in case you didn't read the tags, this contains MAJOR SPOILERS for the plot of Fallout 4. You have been warned. Please Enjoy!

He never anticipated the absolute shit storm that would follow his trip to the institute. Never anticipated what they would find there.

"Paladin Danse's DNA is a perfect match for a synth they called M7-97." Maxson explained through gritted teeth. "To make matters worse, he's gone AWOL. Disappeared without a trace. His sudden absence simply reinforces our conclusion that M7-97 and Paladin Danse are one in the same. I'm finding it difficult to believe that he never confided in you and then swore you to secrecy."

Alex stood in silence, his brain trying to catch up with Maxson's accusations. Danse was a synth? Were they talking about the same Danse? The Danse who had covered his back when they fought ferals in Cambridge? The Danse who had carried him out of the glowing sea after an encounter with a deathclaw had gone horribly wrong? _That_ Danse? 

"No. He never said anything about him being a synth." He managed to croak out. He felt like his throat had simply stopped working.

"I'll take you at your word, Knight." Maxson grunted. "However, that doesn't absolve you of your duty. Danse is a synth. He represents everything we hate... a monstrosity of technology."

Whatever Maxson said next was lost in the buzzing in Alex's ears. There was no way that the same caring, heart-of-steel man that had trusted him from the get-go and done nothing but help him was a synth. Was a product of... his.

All he heard from Maxson after that was "I'm ordering you to hunt down Danse and execute him."

Alex didn't remember what he said in response. Everything seemed to blur together after that. He recalled talking briefly with Scribe Haylen, who told him he should spare Danse. He remembered making his way to Listening Post Bravo, and talking to Danse, somehow convincing him that he was still worth something. That he was still human.

* * *

Alex and Danse stepped out of the bunker, into the setting sun. Silhouetted against the light... was Elder Maxson. Aleksandr had rarely feared the man, but he did now. He felt his throat tighten, but stood with his shoulders upright, if tense. He couldn't remember exactly what words were said, but he remembered Danse explaining to Maxson what he thought, and himself trying to convince Maxson to spare Danse... in vain. He remembered Danse on his knees, Maxson raising a knife and then...

Looking back, Alex thought he must have blacked out. He couldn't remember how or where Maxson struck Danse. He couldn't remember if Danse was actually dead or not. But he was certain that he would never see him again. 

But he was certain of six words, "Thank you for believing in me." Alex never reported back to the Prydwen.

When he finally came to his senses, he was in Goodneighbor. Someone was shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at the surroundings around him. Slowly, shakily, he peeled himself off the table he was laying on.

"You alright, brother?" a familiar raspy voice. On his left.

He sat up fully, the room spinning around him. He blinked a few times, then glanced over to the source of the voice. Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor was standing over him, looking concerned. Nobody else seemed to notice him.

"Hancock...? What Happened?" He asked, his voice sounded choppy and his words seemed clumsy.

"Fell asleep. Or passed out, couldn't tell. As for what happened... well, look in front of you." Hancock gestured to the table with his free hand, the other still on Alex's shoulder.

Alex sat up and looked at the table in front of him. Two empty bottles of Whiskey sat in front of him, as well as an empty bourbon bottle. He groaned and clutched his pounding head. Hancock chuckled softly beside him. 

"Why don't we get you some real sleep? I've already got a bed and some good water for you at the Rexford."

Groggily, and still not quite aware of himself, Alex stood and shakily followed Hancock out of the Third Rail.

* * *

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ Each shot hit the target directly in the head. Deacon whistled behind him, admiring his handywork. Desdemona nodded, satisfied.

"Good. We should be ready to assault the Airport directly very soon. Are you sure you're-"

"I can do it." Alex said, standing from his position kneeling in front of the gallery. He slung his sniper rifle onto his back, and stretched. He felt that fire ignite in his chest again. "Just remember my condition."

Deacon nodded, a slight smirk resting on his lips. "Elder Maxson is all yours, friend."

"He better be."

* * *

Each step Alex took towards the Boston Airport was filled with equal parts dread, and anticipation. He'd been waiting for this moment since he woke up in Goodneighbor. Although he regretted sniping the men and women he had once considered friends, he had no regrets when they stormed the Prydwen, and burst onto the Command Deck. He had no regrets, when he saw the shock and anger on Maxson's face.

He took a deep breath, and looked down his scope. "Ad Victorium, Elder Maxson."

And Aleksandr pulled the trigger.

 

 


End file.
